


The Dangers of Yoga (and Other Hobbies)

by HappyFunBallXD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyFunBallXD/pseuds/HappyFunBallXD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freshly-deGraced Cas finds himself alone in the bunker with a demon with a conscious. Getting a hobby is a good way to clear one's mind of depression and guilt, right? Crowley begs to differ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dangers of Yoga (and Other Hobbies)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caramelkaren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelkaren/gifts).



> For caramelkaren in the SAND exchange! This...turned out WAY different than the prompt, I'm sorry! ;A; I tried to go for lighthearted and it turned into slapstick! But I hope you enjoy it anyway! The prompt was: "A remorseful King of Hell who's just been through a curing process and an angel whose grace has been torn away from him in an act of betrayal - in the events following the season 8 finale, it feels as if they only have each other to turn to once again." Special thanks to [shellygurumi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shellygurumi) for making me write, even when I thought I failed the whole thing. <3

_Sunday_

“We’ll only be gone a few days. Five tops.” Dean braced himself in the doorway, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Garth just needs our help with this thing. You’ll be okay here, right?”

Castiel nodded, not bothering to hide the frown on his lips. “Of course, Dean. I’m not helpless.”

“I know, just... with the whole human thing...” He trailed off with a shrug.

It had been two weeks since the failed third trial, and the angels falling. Dean and Kevin spent a lot of time making sure Sam and Castiel were in working order, and now it was time to help the rest of the newly- human angels. Sam was already in the car, a bit worn out, but feeling better than he had when dealing with Crowley.

The half-cured demon in question was most of the reason Dean was worried about leaving Castiel in the bunker by himself. They hadn’t finished the trial or the cure, but Sam had broken through enough that Crowley was a wreck, a demon with a conscious. They weren’t sure what to do with him after that. With the whole angel thing, they hadn’t really had time to deal with him. They didn’t want to let him go; even if he felt guilty, he was still a demon, and there was no telling how long this meeker version would last. And Crowley didn’t seem too keen on being left out in the world either, following after Sam like a duckling imprinted on its mother.

They’d left him in the bunker’s dungeon, bringing in a cot and as many blankets as they could pile on. Dean insisted he be somewhere they could lock and keep him, while Sam seemed a little more sympathetic, although neither could quite forget all the things Crowley had done, change of heart or not.

He was still there, and Dean and Sam were leaving a freshly- human Castiel to stay with him. Dean was understandably hesitant.

Castiel was dealing with his own set of problems following Metatron’s betrayal. He’d been falling before, in the race to stop the Apocalypse. But falling and having your grace taken out were two different things, and Castiel was slowly coming to terms with his new humanity. He’d been angry at first, raging at anyone and anything in his path. Anger soon gave way to a sort of sad acceptance; he knew he had to get to Metatron to get his grace back, if there was even anything to get back at this point. He was human in the meantime, and that meant learning to deal with it and use what he could to his advantage.

Castiel was doing better, but Dean was still worried about leaving the pair of them behind. They didn’t have much choice in the matter; Garth needed help dealing with all the ex- angels roaming about, and it wasn’t like they could drag Crowley around with them, or leave him locked up alone. And while Castiel was coping, he wasn’t quite ready to dive into the human hunter experience just yet. So the best option was to leave Cas to watch Crowley, and have some time to himself.

If Dean would stop mother- henning him, that is. Castiel rolled his eyes, putting a hand to Dean’s shoulder, both to assure him and push him towards the Impala. “We’ll be fine, Dean. You should worry more about helping the others.”

Dean nodded, moving back a bit. “Yeah, okay. Just call if there’s any problems. And watch out for Crowley. Don’t let him try anything.”

“I know how to handle him. Now go.”

After a few more minutes of hurried instructions and warnings, and Castiel’s assurances that they’d be fine, the ex- angel shut the door, leaning against it as the Impala’s engine roared to life. He stood there, listening to the noise fade down the road.

oOoOo

Castiel shifted the tray he carried to one arm, knocking on the dungeon’s metal door. He’d decided that since he and Crowley were here alone for the better part of a week, they should at least have a conversation. While the demon didn’t particularly need to eat, he still could. Castiel’s newfound humanity required it, and food was a good way to start a conversation.

There was no answer at his knock. The Winchesters had kept the door locked, and Crowley hadn’t seen fit to ask about leaving the room. He hadn’t left the dungeon in two weeks, barely making any noise. They left him food, whatever takeout they ordered, or whatever Dean cooked on any given night. The demon ate the food, but did little else. Castiel wondered if trying to speak with Crowley would even get a reply.

He unlocked the door, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him.

Crowley was in the middle of his cot, curled up into a ball of blankets and facing the wall, his back in Castiel’s direction. He hadn’t moved from that position in at least a few hours, when Dean had checked in on the demon before packing to leave. Castiel knew this because Dean had come down the hall, grumbling about their ‘pet roly- poly demon’.

Said demon didn’t acknowledge Castiel’s presence, continuing to stare at the wall under his blanket shield. Castiel set the tray to the side, on the small end table they’d dragged in when they made up the room.

“I brought sandwiches, if you’d like one,” he said finally, after clearing his throat. There was no answer, so he continued. “I thought we might be able to talk for awhile. You’ve been in here for two weeks, and haven’t spoken more than ten sentences. Knowing you, this is a strange occurrence.”

Crowley let out a quiet scoff of a laugh. The demon was listening, at least.

“I don’t know what it’s like, being a demon. But I do know what it’s like to be a being of a particular purpose, and then complicating that purpose with emotions that you’re not supposed to have.”

He paused for a moment, letting that sink in.

“Suppose you do, don’t you?” Crowley’s voice was rough with lack of use, quiet in the dungeon’s open space. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t turn around.

“Yes,” Castiel nodded, even if the demon couldn’t see him. “It... plays with your mind, those feelings. You’ve been trained to do your job, to follow a certain set of guidelines. Emotions don’t take that into consideration. A conscious is a hard thing to have.”

The blankets shifted a small amount, though Castiel still couldn’t find Crowley’s face in them. “A conscious is a minor inconvenience for an angel. It’s a death sentence to a demon.”

“You’re still alive.”

“For all the good it does me,” the blankets curled in on themselves, miserably. “Locked up in the Winchesters’ dungeon, crushed under the weight of everything I’ve ever done wrong. I’ve given you no reason to do anything but kill me, so why are you bringing me sandwiches?”

Castiel shrugged. “It’s one of the easier things I know how to make.”

“...That’s not what I meant.”

“I... I don’t think it’s possible for you to be forgiven for all you’ve done. The gravity of your crimes, the penance would be unending.”

There was a muffled noise from the blankets, half groan, half sob.

“But there’s no one here who hasn’t done things they regret. And even if you were working to your own benefit, you have helped us at times. If you truly regret what you’ve done, you’ll work to be better in the future. And if you want to work on paying penance for your crimes, the first step is to leave the room.”

Crowley’s head popped out from the blankets, hair ruffled pressed against his head in places. He narrowed his eyes at Castiel. It might have been vaguely threatening, had he not looked like a pouting puppy. “Easy for you to say, angel, they let you wander around as you please.”

“It’s good to see you haven’t lost your snark when you gained a conscious,” Castiel shot back. “I’m not an angel anymore, Crowley. And I’m offering you the chance to stretch a bit.”

He saw the demon flinch, guilt crossing his face for a moment. Castiel lost his grace, what makes an angel an angel. Crowley might have lost the heartless uncaring of a demon, but he was still a demon.

“What about the Winchesters?” he asked finally.

Castiel shrugged. “They’re out for the week. They’ve left me in charge, and I feel like this is the best course of action. I know a lot about regretting your past actions. I can help, if you’ll accept it.”

“There’s got to be a catch, what’s the catch? You don’t get to be King of Hell by expecting something for nothing.”

“You can’t leave the bunker, of course,” Castiel picked up a sandwich, peeling a piece of crust away to chew on. “The wards will keep you from leaving. And I will ask you to keep the demon- sigil cuffs on, at least until I know you won’t try anything.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “What am I going to try, Cas? I’d probably have a panic attack if I gave you a splinter accidentally.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” the ex- angel countered.

Thinking for a moment, Crowley studied the other. “Alright, so say I agree to this, and I get to walk around the place. What then? Do you have a housework program for me to start earning penance?”

Castiel was quiet for a few moments, picking at his sandwich. “I’ve learned much while trying to make up for things I’ve done. It’s a lot easier to do with a cleared mind. You should work on calming your emotions before trying to ask for any kind of penance. Otherwise, you’re just going to make more of the mistakes you already regret.”

“Calming the mind, huh?” Crowley reached for his own sandwich on the tray, wasting no time in taking a bite. He mulled it over while he chewed, politely swallowing before speaking again. “If you think you can make any progress with me, you’re welcome to try. I accept your terms.”

Castiel looked mildly pleased. Crowley leaned closer, curled in his blankets. The ex- angel tilted his head.

“Kiss on it?”

“Not a chance, Crowley.”

“Old habits die hard, love.”

 

_Monday_

True to his word, Castiel left the dungeon unlocked. Crowley kept the handcuffs and collar, engraved with the sigils that left him powerless, and his favorite of the blanket pile wrapped around his shoulders. The ex- angel thought it looked comical, a once- powerful King of Hell in chains and a security blanket. Castiel had breakfast cooking on the stovetop, and Crowley sat at the table, watching. After a few minutes, a bowl was dropped in front of him as Castiel sat across the table with his own.

Crowley blinked at the steaming bowl of oatmeal, arching a brow. “Please, sir, may I have some more?”

“A healthy breakfast is important to a good start to the day.” Castiel ignored the quip, reaching for the bag of brown sugar in the middle of the table. He sprinkled a generous amount into his serving, before handing it off to the other.

Crowley grumbled, scooping sugar into his bowl.

Breakfast was a mostly quiet affair, both men finishing their oats and Castiel rinsing their dishes. He left the demon alone in the sitting room, padding down the hall to change from his pajamas into khakis and a faded t- shirt.

Crowley raised an eyebrow at him when he returned. “Dressing down now, are we?”

Castiel shrugged, slipping his shoes on. “Humans require changing clothes. And these are comfortable, which will help us outside.”

“Outside? I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to leave? Where are we going?”

Castiel opened a closet beside the door, shuffling through its contents and tossing Crowley a pair of gardening gloves. “It’s still on the property. I’ll allow it. The garden helps me relax, so I thought it might benefit you as well.”

Staring at the gloves as if they’d personally offended him, Crowley sneered. “Somehow I sincerely doubt that.”

Shears and trowels in hand, Castiel shrugged. “You could always return to the dungeon.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

OOoOo

Crowley surveyed the small patch of garden right outside the bunker. There was a small fence separating it from the wild grass and trees. There were sigils painted on the fence as well, as if Castiel were making sure demons couldn’t break in to steal his carrots. It did double duty of keeping him inside the garden as well. The garden looked like it was on its way back from a disaster, which was probably true, considering no one had used the bunker for years before the Winchesters had moved in. There were still spots that looked overgrown and yellow, but Crowley was mostly impressed with the amount of well- tended land. The different plants were sectioned off by type, labeled and done in straight, methodical lines.

He wasn’t surprised that the angel was a bit of a perfectionist.

Castiel moved to one of the uncleared areas, kneeling down on the ground and hacking at the weeds with shears and gloved hands. When Crowley made no move to help, he looked up at the demon, nodding in the direction of the space beside him.

“So what’s calming about this, again?” Crowley sighed, crouching down. He frowned at the thought of getting any more dirt all over his suit, even if it was a ruined cause anyway.

The corners of Castiel’s mouth twitched up in a smile. “It’s fairly good anger management. Also not as messy as taking heads off a few vampires.”

“Fair point, I suppose,” Crowley mused, reaching for one of the bigger weeds. It was more like a small tree, for all the good he did in yanking at it. He leaned back, putting his weight into pulling it out and getting nowhere for his efforts.

Castiel handed him a trowel. “Try to dig up some of the roots. It’ll make it easier to get out.”

Grumbling, the demon dug at the base of the weed, hacking it occasionally with the side of the trowel. Then he yanked again, hard. The weed came free, sending him falling back into the dirt, ass first.

Castiel tilted his head at him. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? How do you feel?”

Crowley narrowed his eyes, tossing the weed aside. “Not at all calm, if that’s what you were hoping for.”

The ex- angel thought for a moment. “Perhaps weeding isn’t the way to start out. Maybe you could tend to the flowers instead?”

Crowley looked as Castiel pointed to the patch of small blue flowers in the corner of the garden. He sighed, getting up and dusting himself off before heading for them. He grabbed the watering can on the way, grumbling as he splashed water on the plants.

Castiel went back to his weeding, calm and methodical in clearing the area. Crowley watched him with a frown as they worked, watching the ex- angel’s hands clear the roots from the soil. Even wearing the oversized gardening gloves, Castiel’s hands moved deftly, untangling the roots from the dirt.

He was interrupted from his study as something flew across his peripheral vision. Blinking, he turned back to the flower patch, just in time for a large wasp to fly by his head again.

With an undignified yelp, Crowley dropped the watering can, ducking away. The wasp persisted, intent on protecting its personal flowerbed. Castiel looked up at the noise, eyes widening.

“Crowley, don’t provoke them.”

“Provoke them?” the demon snapped, swatting at it defensively. “The bloody thing started the provoking!”

The wasp flew forward, and Crowley fell back, tripping over the watering can and falling on his ass once again. The wasp wasted no time in attacking, going for the demon’s uncovered face.

Crowley yelled, covering his face and getting stung in the hands for his efforts. Castiel was on his feet in an instant, grabbing a spray bottle from the pile of garden supplies, quickly spraying over the wasp and Crowley.

The wasp flew off quickly, and Crowley sputtered as whatever Castiel had in the bottle misted over his face. Castiel helped him up with hands under his arms, lifting him easily and studying the damage with a frown.

“The bloody hell was that?!” Crowley’s voice was shriller than normal, eyes squeezed tight against the wasp stings and spray.

“Wasp deterrent. It’s homemade, and safe for the plants and wasps.”

“You can’t even kill the little bastard?”

Castiel frowned. “It wasn’t doing anything besides protecting its home. No reason to kill it.”

The blue- eyed man led Crowley back inside, leaving the tools for the time being. Crowley’s eyes hurt, the spray leaving them burning as much as the stings did. He let Castiel sit him on a chair in the kitchen. Cas shuffled around in the cabinets for a few moments, before Crowley felt a damp washcloth touch his cheek.

“Vinegar helps soothe the sting,” he explained, dabbing the cloth gently at Crowley’s face and hands. “Luckily it was a wasp and not a bee. Bees can only sting once, but it hurts more.”

“Lucky me,” Crowley grumbled, managing to blink an eye open over the burn. Castiel’s face was close to his, blue eyes studying him in concern. Crowley swallowed thickly, looking away. “I don’t think gardens are my true calling.”

Castiel smiled a bit. “We’ll try something else tomorrow.”

Crowley sighed, leaning back in the chair. “Inside this time?”

 

_Tuesday_

Crowley went to bed early that night, sore and worn out from the ache in his skin. He wished the sigils weren’t keeping his powers locked down. He felt everything as a human did. And while he hadn’t felt the guilt while working with Cas in the garden, when he was alone it was back in full force.

Castiel peeked inside his room in the morning, and found the demon curled back into his next of blankets. He sighed, stepping into the room proper and setting his hand on the pile, giving it a little shake.

There was a grumble from the depths, and Crowley’s face emerged, red and a little swollen. And definitely not in a good mood.

“What d’you want?” he groused, curling the blankets tighter around himself.

“Breakfast is ready, if you’d like some. There’s coffee.”

“Great, more oats. Just what I wanted to wake up to.”

Castiel gnawed at his lip, a particularly human habit he’d picked up. “I thought I’d make something more palate pleasing, considering what happened yesterday.”

That got the demon’s attention. “What’d you make?”

Castiel just smiled, leaving the room. Crowley pouted a bit, shuffling out of his blankets to follow. His chest felt heavy, the guilt in the pit of his stomach warring with the happy feeling of Castiel making him a special breakfast. It was almost enough to make his eyes water with emotion, but he blinked it back quickly. It was breakfast, not a marriage proposal.

After a pleasant breakfast of eggs, sausage and coffee, Crowley was in a significantly better mood than yesterday. The stings still ached, but it was dulled by the vinegar Cas had dabbed them with last night and after breakfast. The demon followed Castiel into the sitting room, curling up on the sofa.

“Where’d you learn all this anyway? You’re like Dr. Quinn all of a sudden. I thought you’d be struggling to make toast, let alone wasp sprays.”

Castiel tilted his head, eyes squinting in that way that said he didn’t understand something. Obviously his time spent with Dean had taught him not to bother asking about it. “Sam taught me how to search things on the Internet. It’s been an invaluable resource.”

“Been hitting the Google, I suppose?” Crowley chuckled, mentally picturing an angel of the lord hunched over a laptop. “What are we doing today?”

Castiel shrugged at the comment, reaching under the coffee table to drag out a wicker basket. Inside was a collection of yarn balls, an assortment of colors. Along the side of the basket where hooks and needles in different shades of metal. Castiel took out a hook and handed it to Crowley, who continued to stare at him, dumbfounded.

“We’re going to… do some knitting?”

“Crochet,” Castiel answered. “I figured that would be easier to start you out on.” He plucked a ball of purple yarn from the basket, holding it out to him.

Crowley took it, not quite sure what else to do. Cas picked out his own hook and a dark shade of blue yarn.

“Alright, we’ll start with the slip knot…”

OOoOo

An hour later, and Crowley had started to get the hang of things. Castiel was content in his abilities, merely quoting directions from a pattern he’d printed from the Internet. He worked on his own version of the project, which looked far more professional than Crowley’s own.

It wasn’t without its frustrations, however. The slip knot had been easy. Getting into the rhythm and keeping count were harder parts. It seemed like he came up with extra stitches in every round, and a few times he’d had to completely start over.

He growled, setting his work down to make another mark on the paper. Castiel suggested he make a tally for each row he did, helping him keep track. He still wasn’t sure what they were making. At this point, it looked like a ball.

When he reached his stitch marker this time, his count was short by quite a few stitches. He threw the whole thing down with a growl. “I give up!”

Castiel blinked owlishly at him, setting his own project in his lap. “You’re not enjoying it?”

“No, I’m not enjoying it, Cas!” Crowley snapped, crossing his arms in a sulk and glaring at the failed mess of yarn in his lap.

“This is having the opposite effect of what we intended,” Castiel pursed his lips.

“Obviously,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I can’t focus on this. The count is always wrong. And what are we even making? There’s no point sitting here all day making little yarn balls.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Oh. We’re making octopi.”

Crowley turned, fixing the ex- angel with an exasperated stare. “Octopi?”

“Yes. Like this.” He held up his own ball, which was far tidier than Crowley had managed with his, complete with a few spirals coming out of the bottom, which he assumed were the things tentacles.

“How… practical.” Crowley deadpanned.

Castiel shrugged. “I liked it. I saw it and wanted to make one.”

“Leave it to the angel to want a stuffed animal collection.”

“Crowley,” Cas huffed sternly, but Crowley was having none of it.

The demon tossed his half- formed ball aside, the hook making a clinking noise as it hit the coffee table. Castiel watched without saying anything, leaning down to pick up the discarded hook and mess of yarn.

“I’ll be in my dungeon room,” Crowley snapped, turning on a heel and storming off.

OOoOo

Crowley awoke sometime later in the night, curled in his nest of blankets. The bunker was silent, which wasn’t altogether surprising, since Castiel wasn’t a noisy roommate. He blinked his eyes open for a moment. Not that he could tell what time of night it was, in a dungeon with no windows.

Something caught his eye. On the other side of the pillow, a dark splotch of blue against the white.

Castiel’s crochet octopus, finished and stuffed, with a little pink smiling face.

Crowley rolled his eyes and settled back down to sleep.

 

_Wednesday_

They didn’t talk about the octopus the next morning. If Castiel seemed bothered by Crowley’s tantrum from the previous night, he didn’t show it. The demon slid into the kitchen, flopping into his chair as Castiel set a toasted bagel in front of him. The pair ate quietly, a short affair, and Crowley wondered what activity Castiel had in store for them today. He hoped it worked out better than the previous two. He still hurt from the wasp stings and all the concentrating on crochet had left him with an ache in his temples.

And he felt guilty still. Perhaps even more, because Castiel was only trying to help him, and he was being childish. It’s not like Castiel could control the wildlife in his garden, or make his stitches equal out. So when Castiel took him by the wrist, leading him down the hall, he followed obediently, looking at the floor.

He was stopped short when Castiel paused in front of a door, taking only a moment to open it before pulling the demon inside. Once the door was shut behind them, Crowley looked up, curiosity overpowering guilt.

They were in a bedroom, with little decoration. Nothing on the walls to signify an owner, plain sheets on the bed. There was a desk to the side with a closed laptop resting on it. The only thing to give Crowley any kind of hint of whose room he was in was the small collection of crocheted stuffed animals that lined a shelf beside the desk.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Well, I knew we were getting along, but taking me to bed so soon, Cas? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you fancied me.”

Castiel tipped his head to the side, squinting in that confused way of his. Crowley didn’t elaborate, so the ex- angel merely shrugged, leaving Crowley’s side to open one of the desk drawers, shuffling the contents around. He pulled out a small green camera.

Crowley barely suppressed a groan. “You can’t be serious.”

“What?”

“Today is Kodak moment day? Are you running out of ideas already?”

Castiel frowned. “Photography is a relaxing hobby.”

“Photography isn’t a hobby, it’s something people do at birthdays. You might as well be a clown.”

“I don’t think Sam would appreciate that.”

Crowley heaved a sigh, grabbing the camera from Castiel’s hand. “Fine, whatever. Let’s get this over with so it can fail. How many hobbies do you have, anyway?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of research on the laptop Sam gave me. It’s proven quite useful in giving me suggestions. Humans have a lot of interesting activities to pursue in their free time.”

“Normal people use the Internet for pornography,” Crowley teased, turning the small camera on. It was digital, at least. They tended to be a lot more user friendly than the old models. At least they wouldn’t need a dark room. He held it up, snapping a quick picture of Castiel. “There, happy?”

“How do you feel?”

Crowley shrugged. “Tired mostly. Like I’ve eaten too much and it’s fighting back.”

Castiel nodded toward the camera. “Take another.”

He rolled his eyes. “Taking a few bloody pictures isn’t going to help me find some magical oasis of calm, Cas. This is ridiculous.”

Castiel reached out, taking the camera from him. Before the demon could protest, he took a picture.

“Stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because the only thing I want to do less than take stupid pictures is to be your model.” Crowley grumbled, looking away.

Castiel tilted his head, a slight smile quirking in the corner of his mouth. “Why not? You never struck me as the self- conscious type, Crowley.”

Crowley fixed him with a glare. Castiel’s only response was to take another picture. The demon took a step forward, reaching for the camera, but Castiel backed up, keeping it away from him and getting another picture for the trouble.

Letting out a growl, Crowley advanced once again, causing a repeat performance from Castiel. Narrowing his eyes, Crowley made a grab for the camera. Castiel lifted it above his reach, quirking a brow as he tilted the camera down, taking a bird’s eye view picture.

“Castiel!”

The ex- angel hummed, appearing to all the world completely innocent. Crowley’s fists clenched at his sides.

“How is this supposed to be helping me calm down?”

Castiel thought for a moment. “It’s not. I just figured since you were going to be insufferable about it, I’d be the same in return.”

Eyes widening, Crowley could only stare at the other in surprise. “You’ve been hanging around those damn Winchesters too long.”

“Perhaps.” Another picture.

“If I had just one ounce of power, I’d explode that thing so quickly you’d forget what a camera was.”

Castiel kept his arm up high, just out of Crowley’s reach. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you can’t. I’d hate to lose this camera.”

Crowley snarled, chains clinking noisily as he lunged at Castiel, knocking the ex- angel to the ground. Castiel coughed, the other’s weight stealing the breath from him momentarily. Crowley took advantage of that, grabbing the camera from Cas’s hand. He immediately started pressing buttons, trying to go through the camera’s menu and delete all the pictures.

Castiel watched him, more curious than angry. “Crowley?”

The demon frowned, deleting another picture. “What?”

After a moment’s consideration, he shrugged. “Nothing.”

Crowley huffed, continuing his search of the camera’s data until he was satisfied that all the pictures of himself were gone.

Only then did he notice that his impromptu tackle had left him atop Castiel, straddling the ex- angel’s waist. He peered down at the other, feeling smug after his victory. “Looks like I’m the one on top, love.”

To his surprise, Castiel snorted. “If that’s what you want to believe…”

Crowley grumbled something about ‘fucking Winchesters’, feeling his face warm embarrassingly as he got to his feet. He tossed the camera at Castiel’s chest, ready to deny this ever happened.

He rubbed the back of his neck. It was a strange feeling, awkwardness, and he didn’t appreciate it at all. The guilt was bad enough, without turning into some blushing schoolgirl just because he bumped up against a guy.

Looking up to say something to Castiel, he heard the click of the camera before he saw the damn thing focused on him again.

“Castiel!”

 

_Thursday_

Crowley awoke the next morning to the sound of something clattering in the direction of the kitchen. He grumbled, knocking aside the stuffed octopus that had rolled against his cheek as he slept, and got up.

Castiel was in the kitchen, bright and early as usual. When Crowley slumped into his chair, he was met with a plate of fluffy pancakes.

He arched a brow. “Going all out today?”

“It’s a bit of an apology for yesterday. You were right, I’m supposed to be helping you calm yourself, not egging you on. However hilarious the results may be.”

Crowley hated the way he felt his cheeks warm, thinking of the previous day. He reached for the syrup, trying not to bring attention to it. “It’s fine, Cas. Not as if I haven’t ever teased you before.”

Castiel merely shrugged, sipping at a glass of orange juice. “Still, I am sorry I upset you. But don’t eat too much, we’ll be doing some moving around today and you’ll get sick if you eat too much beforehand.”

After breakfast had been eaten and the kitchen cleaned, the ex- angel led Crowley out through the library and into a clear room in the bunker. Crowley hadn’t seen much of the Team Free Will hideout beside the dungeon and Castiel’s room, so he took the chance to look around. Castiel stopped in what looked like a training room, stone floor lined with plastic mats and exercise equipment.

The demon frowned. “What are you plotting?”

“We’re calming your emotions and clearing your mind.”

Crowley eyed the weights, distrustful. “I don’t do manual labor if I can help it.” He held up a wrist, shaking it enough that the chains made a noise. “Besides, I’ve already been carrying these around all week.”

“You’re not going to be lifting weights,” Castiel replied, grabbing the demon’s outstretched arm and guiding him over to the mats. “I’m going to lead you through some simple yoga exercises.”

Wrinkling his nose, Crowley watched Castiel toe his shoes off, kicking them to the side of the mat. The blue- eyed man looked at him expectantly until he sighed, doing the same.

“We’ll start with sukhasana, the easy pose. You only have to go as far as you’re able, don’t try to force yourself.” Castiel’s voice was calm and relaxed, as he lowered himself to sit on the mat, legs crossed.

He could handle that, at least. Crowley sat down, folding his legs with a resigned frown.

Castiel seemed pleased. He nodded slightly. “Good. Now take a few deep breaths, and we’ll switch to the upacishtha konasana.”

“The what?” Crowley deadpanned. He didn’t like the sound of this already.

“The seated angle pose,” Castiel explained. He unfolded his legs, spreading them apart until he was nearly in a split.

The demon stared at him, incredulous. “You expect me to be able to do that?”

“Only as far as you can.” Castiel settled his hands on his thighs, watching.

With a growl, Crowley squirmed on the mat, trying to work his way into something even resembling Cas’s pose. After a few minutes of trying, he gave up halfway, glaring at the other.

If the ex- angel was effected by the glare, he didn’t show it. He looked as unruffled as ever, letting his eyes close and taking a few deep breaths. Crowley leaned forward to keep from falling over, balancing his weight on his arms.

After a moment of silence, Castiel drew his legs together, laying on his back. From there, lifted his legs into the air, propping his hands on his lower back to keep his ass and legs off the ground. At Crowley’s slightly horrified look, he replied, “Ardha sarvangasana. The half shoulder stand.”

Crowley was beginning to wonder if this was yoga as intended, or some sort of suggestive kama sutra bullshit. He could feel his face growing red as he wiggled his way onto his back, mimicking the other’s pose with a great deal less grace.

Castiel rested there for a moment, breathing deeply and looking the very picture of calm, even though Crowley was fighting a losing battle with gravity to send his butt back to the floor where it belonged.

The blue- eyed man bowed his torso even further, bringing his feet down to touch the mat on either side of his head. “Halasana. The plough pose.”

Frowning, Crowley didn’t even attempt the pose, instead moving his arms to his sides. Without the support, his legs came down until he just lay on the mat, glaring at Castiel the entire time.

When Castiel noticed that the demon had stopped, he tilted his head, cheek pressed against the mat and looked at him under his leg. “Something wrong?”

“Are you honestly asking me that question?” Crowley snapped, sitting up. At Castiel’s stare, he only sighed again. “Of course, you’re honestly asking me that question. For fuck’s sake, Cas, I’m the King of Hell, not a bloody pretzel!”

Castiel moved his legs, twisting his way out of the pose to sit up again, legs folding. “You’re upset.”

“Yes, I’m upset!” Crowley roared, well and truly at his limit. “You’ve dragged me around for the past week, getting stung by bloody wasps, and drove me crazy with your stupid knitting—”

“Crochet.”

“THAT’S NOT EVEN THE POINT! The point is, you’ve been trying to ‘help’ me for a week, and you obviously can’t tell it’s not working! I’m not calmed by pulling weeds and twisting myself into knots! This isn’t helping my guilt, or my emotions, or anything else! So just LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Castiel’s eyes widened at the outburst, staring at the demon as he turned on a heel, storming out of the room. The door slammed behind him. Crowley didn’t stop to see if the other had followed him, he kept going until he reached the privacy of the dungeon. He slammed that door too, the action not making him feel any better, and slid down to sit against it. There was a lump in his throat, and he couldn’t get rid of it no matter how much he swallowed.

There were quiet footsteps in the hall a few minutes later. Crowley waited for Castiel to knock on his door. There was nothing, and after a moment’s hesitation, the footsteps retreated. With a sigh, Crowley got up from the floor, stumbling over to his cot and curling up in his nest of blankets.

The octopus doll rolled on the pillow, flopping softly against his cheek. With a frustrated growl, he knocked it to the floor.

 

_Friday_

The next morning, it was quiet. Crowley blinked his eyes open, unsure what time it was. The dungeon was no help, being dark and windowless at all times of the day. He was used to Castiel waking him with kitchen noises, or in person for the past week, so he was slightly confused that he was left to wake on his own.

He emerged from his pile of blankets, rolling his shoulders to pop the stiff joints. After the workout yesterday he was sore, hurting muscles that he didn’t even know he could use.

Padding his way toward the door, intent on making himself something to eat, his foot kicked something soft. Looking down, he spotted the blue yarn octopus, laying on its side and looking particularly rejected, if a stuffed animal could even look rejected. It was probably just the guilt personifying itself. Still, Crowley bent down, picking the little thing up to return to its place on his pillow.

The sun was shining brightly through the small hallway window. So it was morning, then. It was still quiet, and Crowley wondered if Castiel decided to sleep in. He’d seen the ex- angel up early every morning since he’d come to the bunker, so he didn’t see why it would change now. He wandered into the kitchen, flicking on the lights.

His stomach grumbled in protest of going to bed without dinner the previous night. He sighed, going through the cabinets. If he was the first one up, he may as well make them breakfast, since Castiel had taken care of it before. And as much as he felt he was validated in his outburst yesterday, he still felt bad about snapping at the other. Damn this conscious business.

So he decided that some cinnamon french toast would be the start to a good apology. He got started, cracking eggs and mixing the coating. He was thankful that the Winchesters kept the kitchen stocked, despite never really having a permanent one before. It’s not like he could make a grocery run with the sigils on the walls and his wrists.

When breakfast was ready, Castiel still hadn’t come out of his room. Crowley gathered everything up on a tray he found leaning against the fridge, and took the whole setup down the hall, balancing it with one hand while he knocked on Castiel’s door.

There was a muffled thump from behind the door, and a grumbled curse. Then the door opened, revealing a rumpled and sleepy Castiel. Crowley bit back a laugh at the sight, holding up the tray. “Breakfast?”

Castiel blinked a few times, both to clear the sleep from his eyes, and to stare at the tray as if he were confused by its very existence. Crowley arched a brow, and Castiel took a step back, letting him in.

The demon set the tray on the bed, making sure the coffee wouldn’t spill, before turning around to get a good look at the other. His hair was an absolute wreck, even more so than usual. His sleep shirt and shorts were wrinkled and twisted slightly to the side from a night of tossing and turning. Despite himself, Crowley smiled.

“You made breakfast?” Castiel spoke up, voice rough from sleep.

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

Castiel adjusted his clothes. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

Crowley shrugged. “It’s not that hard, darling. I didn’t make a feast, I made some glorified toast. I figured I should… thank you for your help this past week, and it seemed a good way to start. Now sit down and eat before I change my mind.”

Still a bit surprised, Castiel did as instructed, sitting down slowly on the bed, taking the fork and cutting a slice of toast. Crowley took his own plate, setting it in his lap as he began to eat.

Castiel let out a hum as he chewed, appreciative. “You should have told me you could cook. I would have led with that.”

“Led with it?” Crowley looked at the other over his tea cup.

“In helping calm your emotions. Cooking is a good way to do that. Even Dean bakes when he’s restless here.”

Crowley snickered. “Tell me he wears a frilly apron.”

Castiel tilted his head. “He doesn’t. But it doesn’t make it any less true. You seem a lot more calm than you did yesterday.”

Crowley paused. He hadn’t thought about it like that. In fact, he hadn’t thought about much at all while he was cooking, just working on making the breakfast. Maybe Castiel was right. He felt better than he had all week.

He didn’t have a response for that, so he shrugged, continuing to eat. Castiel didn’t fight the silence, focusing on his meal as well. They didn’t speak again until the food was finished, Castiel sipping at his coffee.

“Dean and Sam are coming back tonight.”

“Oh. Back to the dungeon with me then, I suppose.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’ll speak with them. You haven’t been a problem for this week, I think we can trust you to be out while following the same rules.”

“I can see Deano having a problem with that.” Crowley rolled his eyes.

Castiel’s response was to smile. “I think I know how to get him on your side.”

“Ooh, conspiring?”

“If you make an apple pie as well as you make french toast, I’m sure he can be convinced that you’ve got useful skills to keep on hand.”

Crowley grinned at that. “Now see, that’s why I like you, Cassie. Ever the strategist.”

Castiel looked proud; Crowley might say he bordered on smug. “I’ll handle dinner, if you take care of dessert. They’ll be too busy enjoying a meal to possibly fight you on this.”

The ex- angel got up, collecting the plates on the tray. He hesitated a moment before speaking again. “I am sorry, about yesterday. I didn’t mean to push you all week. I was only trying to help. I suppose I didn’t stop to think that what I enjoyed doing might not work for everyone. Even if the internet says they’re popular.”

“It’s history,” Crowley shrugged. “You messed up, but I shouldn’t have unloaded on you. So let’s just forget the whole thing, and focus on knocking the Winchesters’ ugly boots off with our culinary skills, shall we?”

Castiel looked relieved. “That sounds like a good plan.”

 

_Friday Night_

Dean shut the Impala door, slinging his bag over a shoulder. Beside him, Sam stretched his legs. Dean reached over, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get in, I’ll make us all something quick to eat.”

Sam hummed his agreement, grabbing his own bag from the seat. “You think Cas has been okay by himself?”

“He hasn’t called, so I figure he’s been fine. I wonder if Crowley’s been giving him hell. When I left I could still hear the most pathetic version of Queen I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing.”

Sam huffed a laugh, pulling open the bunker door. They fully expected to be greeted with silence, maybe a whining refrain from the dungeon. But when they got to the kitchen, they were met with a demon and an ex- angel sharing kitchen space, grinning at each other. Castiel was stirring something in a saucepan, and Crowley was taking something out of the oven, wearing the ridiculous orange potholders they’d found in the bunker’s contents. Both were covered in traces of flour.

Dean dropped his bag on the floor, easy expression sliding off his face. “What’s he doing out?"

Castiel set his wooden spoon down, hands moving to rest on his hips. “Making you a pie.”

Dean didn’t know how to respond to that. Sam stepped into the kitchen, closer to the ex- angel, wearing his ‘I’m concerned for you’ expression. “Cas, what’s going on?”

“I’ve been working with him this week,” Castiel explained. “We’ve been trying to keep his emotions under control, to help with his newfound guilt. Cooking seems to calm him.”

“He’s right here, you know,” Crowley snorted.

Dean scowled. “You mean to tell me, he’s been out wandering around all week, and nothing bad has happened?”

“He got stung by a wasp,” Castiel pointed out helpfully.

“So you haven’t tried to escape or anything?” Sam ran a hand through his hair, trying to understand the situation.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Where am I going to go, Moose? Half of Hell wants me dead, and with your taste in jewelry, I’m pretty much powerless.”

“The cuffs…”

“Exactly. Now go get cleaned up and let us finish dinner, before you distract Cas enough to burn something.”

Dean and Sam looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Finally, bewildered, they left the kitchen to their respective rooms.

Crowley let out a relieved sigh, sliding the potholders off to set on the counter beside the pie. “I wasn’t really sure if that was going to work.”

“To be honest, neither was I.” Castiel turned the stove down, leaning against it. “You never can tell how they’re going to react to something.”

“Winchesters,” Crowley shook his head. “Still, thanks, I guess. They wouldn’t have listened to me alone. For good reason.”

Castiel shrugged. “I believe that you’re trying to atone. So I’ll do what I can to help.”

Crowley leaned against the counter, turning his head to study the other. “I guess I’ll be in charge of cooking from now on, huh? Atonement through full stomachs.”

“Seems an easy way to start,” Castiel smiled. “It’s better than your concerts in the dungeon.”

Jaw dropping in shock, Crowley stared at him. “Castiel! Did you just make a joke at my expense?”

“Seems I did,” the ex- angel smirked, leaning closer, challenging him at face level.

“I’ll have you know, that was an homage to the great singers of our generation…”

“I’m sure the others appreciated it.”

Crowley gave a snort, closing the little distance between them, face to face. “Not like the three of you would know good music if it bit you on the ass.”

“We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

“What, whether you’d know good music, or whether music will bite you in the ass?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, moving forward the last little bit and then they were kissing. Crowley took a moment to be surprised at the ex- angel’s forwardness, but only a moment, before he took advantage of the situation that had presented itself, kissing back like he was making the deal of a lifetime.

OOoOo

Dinner was taking a lot longer than Dean thought it would. He and Sam sat in the dining room after washing up, waiting for the others to finish up in the kitchen. Drumming his fingers on the table, Sam browsed his tablet idly, while Dean squirmed in his chair.

After the better part of an hour, he got up from his seat with a huff, intent on seeing what was keeping them. He pushed the kitchen door open, stopping short at the scene before him.

Crowley had Castiel pinned against the counter, hands on the ex- angel’s hips and tongue down his throat. Castiel, for his part, seemed to be enjoying himself as well, fingers curled tight in Crowley’s jacket, arms wrapped around his shoulders and a hand in the demon’s hair.

Dean made a squeaking noise in his throat. Both of them looked up at the sound, Castiel’s eyes a bit wide and Crowley’s expression annoyed at being interrupted.

Without another word, Dean turned on a heel and left the kitchen.

Castiel chuckled, his grip on the other’s neck pulling him back in.

Dinner could wait.

 


End file.
